Waning
by Razalla
Summary: Shikamaru mourns the death of Asuma. AsuShika yaoi [Oneshot]Rated T for mild sex scene. From Shika's POV


I lay on my bed in a patch of warm sunlight, like a limp rag doll. I'm devoid of motion, full of sorrow and sadness. Why am I like this? I'm not supposed to care, that's not me. But then ever since he died, it's all I can think about. I think about how I'll never see him again. I hate myself now, I hate everyone now…except him. I was the cloud in the sky, floating without purpose and he was the wind that guided me. Now I'm without a purpose, without a want or a need. Now I'm on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, waiting to die. My mind taunts and teases me by flashing me back to the past when it first happened, when the first stage of chronic torment in my life evaporated, only leaving room for a much more painful torment to come.

I remember when I first gazed at Asuma not looked at him, gaze. It was during a game of chess we played in the park. I was several moves away from beating him and he was deep in thought to make his next move. I stopped thinking about the game and I looked at him, the look slowly turned into a gaze. As I gazed I realized how much I wanted him, I realized how much I had right in front of me, and I realized how I couldn't touch him. He was so obviously in love with Kurenai, even if he wasn't I still wouldn't deserve him anyways. That's when the first stage of my chronic torment began. It began to plague me and tear me apart, I actually cared about something now and I had to conceal it.

I remember that day in winter where I went to his house to play chess. Everything was iced over, it was so cold outside and the clouds were gray. It was a rare climate for the village, no one was used to it and most everybody stayed inside. I remember in the middle of our chess game that day how it started to rain and then hail… hard. It did this for several hours and Asuma came to the conclusion that it would be like this all day. He suggested I should stay the night and I was very cautious to except without having a nervous tone or an overexcited one. The chronic torment, the emotional cancer that was gripping me now gripped tighter, constricting me. I wanted to dash out of his house and be in the relentless barrage of ice than to stay there and try to defy the gravity that tugged to him. I of course didn't, to make it worse he took off his shirt, explaining it was stuffy inside. This is where he threw off my concentration on the game of chess completely. I couldn't think about the stupid game anymore, he was right there in front of me without a shirt on and I didn't dare make a move. I stared at the chessboard trying to look like I was in thought but in truth I was resisting myself, I wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it either. I made my move and looked up to gaze it him only to find he was gazing right back at me. Our eyes locked, I tried to look back at the chessboard but I was trapped in his eyes, they were different this time. I had never seen that look before; it was almost as if it were a hungry gaze. I broke out of the locking gaze and looked down and shut my eyes, as if I had been staring at the sun. I suddenly was pushed down into the floor and heard the chess pieces clatter on the ground. I opened my eyes to find myself pinned down looking into Asuma's hungry eyes, which were much closer now. I was thrown out of my torment, wondering if this was a dream that my mind forced on me or the real thing. As Asuma pressed his lips onto mine I concluded that this was indeed real. He pulled me up onto his nearby bed pinning me in there as well. He stripped me of my clothing as he stripped what remained of his clothing. I barely noticed it, he was so fast and so smooth. He wasted no time teasing me, as soon as we were both stripped he took me. He was gentle but firm and he kept every part of his body close to me. His hairy chest was against mine and his beard grazed my forehead as my hung over his shoulder. My hands clawed his back and thunder boomed in the sky outside. Sometimes it was so fierce it shook the whole house, but of course I wasn't fazed by that at the moment. I released a few seconds before he did. He loosened his grip on me a bit and settled next to me on the bed. I rolled to the side looking through the window. He then pulled me closer to him again, spooning me and covering us both in a blanket.

That's how it first happened. No words, just moves. We often ended up like that, I visited his house to "play chess" more often. I was no longer tormented because there was someone there and the anxiety that consumed be was erased. When he died, I was burdened with a more painful torment. Anxiety to peace with myself to hopelessness. He is dead, he is not coming back. I will never again feel his skin against mine, I will never again look into his hypnotizing eyes, I will never again smell that intoxicating scent of cigarettes and sweat. I am hollow, I am cold, there is nothing left of me.

I have only one desire now, and that is to die.


End file.
